Just A Dream
by ChrisVertner
Summary: Captain Nicholls had a girl back home. She never dreamt that he would die. With a letter from the army informing her of his death, her whole world comes crashing down. But she holds strong. In a world where most would fall. Her faith will be rewarded.


It was Monday, and Georgie Wilder was headed down to the local post office. She expected a letter from her fiance, James Nicholls. He was a soldier in the army. A Captain actually. He'd been so excited and ready to go at first, but his last few letters from camp had been ones of a boy. Terrified. With the day to ship out drawing closer, James wrote more of how much he just wanted to come back home.

_ My dearest Georgie,_

_I know I've written previously of how much I can't wait to be out in the midst of the fighting, but lately I've grown afraid. It is only in you I confide this. For I know you will not judge me on it. I hear stories of what goes on in France. I fear...I fear that if I leave, I will not be coming back to you. Do not fret though. I'm sure it's just the jitters. We will be shipping out soon. I'm not sure of how often I will be able to write then. Keep me in your prayers. For it will be by God's grace alone I come home at all. And I must come home to you. Because when I do, I will marry you. And I will be the happiest man in the world. Enclosed I have sent sketches of my mount Joey. For I know how much you love horses. I've promised the boy who owned him before that I would do all in my power to return him when the war is over. I hope I can keep that promise. Also, there are drawings of you. You are my greatest muse. _

_ With love,_

_ James._

Of course she worried over him. Each night she prayed hard. Keep him safe. Bring him home. Every few days she received a letter with a little drawing attached. He was such a fine artist. Perhaps when he came home he could make a deal of it.

She hadn't gotten a letter in over a two weeks and was a bit anxious. But he had said it might be a while once they shipped out. Today though she swore. Today would be the day she'd get a letter. She'd woken with an eerie feeling. One that left her nervous. If she didn't get a letter today...well. She wasn't going to think like that.

"I'm just worried is all. It's been too long. But he's fine. Maybe you're just not feeling well Georgie. That's it. That's all that feeling is. Nothing to worry about. You aren't superstitious at all. No need to bet so much on a stupid gut feeling." She repeated that mantra over and over on the way into town.

When she entered the post building she smiled wide showing no fear.

"Have I got anything today Percy?" She asked the postman.

"Actually lass, you do. Bout time eh?" He returned her smile gently and passed her a package.

She didn't even wait to get home. The moment she saw the post was indeed from him, she ripped it open right there.

_Miss Georgie Wilder, _

_I regret to inform you, that Captain Nicholls was killed in action a few days ago. A portion of his sketch book was sent to a young man named Albert, but the rest, the majority, are enclosed. They are mostly pictures of you. He talked of you often, and we here are praying for you. The rest of his effects and belongings will be sent to your address as well in due time. It it only fitting that the woman he would marry should have his things._

_ My sincerest apologies,_

_ Maj. Harris._

Everything fell away. The floor was suddenly rushing up to meet her. The post office was gone. She was uncased in a pitch, black nothing. Suffocating. It took her a moment to realize her difficulty breathing was in fact because, the had stopped breathing all together. She took a huge gulp of air and the room finally swam into focus. Percy and a number of costumers were on the floor beside her trying to fan her off, hold her up. A wailing sob escaped her throat and the tears began to pour. The urge to vomit was strong. This could not be happening. He could not be dead. She'd dreamt of the day he would come home to her. He was supposed to come back. They were supposed to get married. He promised.

The letter was still clutched in her hand, wrinkled and smashed in her tightly closed fist. The parcel with his sketches was on the floor beside her feet. She snatched it up and held it tightly to her chest. Fighting every urge to curl up there on the ground, she pushed herself up and the men quickly helped her to her feet. Still choking and heaving, she broke away from the helping hands. She needed air. She needed to be alone.

Bursting from the post office, she tore back toward home. People in the streets stared but she did not care. Nothing else mattered. Her own life meant nothing now. Or so she felt. When she reached her house on the outskirts of the town, she flung the door open and slammed it back with just as much force. She collapsed against the door and a fresh wave of cries came. How long she sat there sobbing she did not know.

But when she did finally have the strength to get back up, her mind was beginning to settle a bit. There was no reason to go into _hysterics_. She had a funeral to plan. James had no family. His parents had both died when he was young and he had no siblings. It would be up to her to put everything in order. Then the thought struck her. There was no body. Would it be sent back here for burial? Tears stung behind her eyes once again. What if he was left there? What if they didn't care, or could not bring him back? Dear God that couldn't happen. She prayed hard that they would send his body back to her.

The next morning, Georgie made her way back into town to speak to someone about starting funeral arrangements. She knew people watched her. Their eyes burned into her and she hated it. News must have spread since the day before. Why couldn't they all just mind their own business. She could hear their heated whispers.

"Did you hear? She had a break down in the post office yesterday. Her fiance was killed in the war."

"Poor dear. Couldn't hold herself together."

"She should be proud that he died for his country."

Bastards. All of them. She wanted to scream. Tell them to shut up. The man she loved was dead and they were making it into a show. New gossip for the men and women to spread all over town. But like a lady should, she ignored their stares and gossip laced words.

The cost for a funeral was great, and, even after three days, there was still no body to bury. But she did not let it stop her. He would have a proper memorial. There were many people there. More than originally expected. She hated most of them. They were all involved in winding the tale of her hysteria. Almost every single one kept their eyes on here. Even when others got up to speak. It was as if they all expected her to collapse into fits again. She was beyond that now. Only in the privacy of her own home did she cry. Only at night, in bed did she curl up and sob. Never would she be in his bed. To have his arms wrap her up and comfort her when she needed it. Never would she feel the squirming or kicking of a child, their child, for the first time. There would be no happy wedding. No sweet, sensual honeymoon. Nothing. Just as there was no coffin. No body to be buried. Just a cold, gray, stone with his name, a date and nothing else.

After everyone left, Georgie stayed. And every day after that she came back. Carrying flowers and letter. A letter that might have seemed silly to everyone else. But to her it meant the world. She would read it out loud. Most of the time it spoke of her day, how she felt. She even sent in to his regiment and asked for the address of the boy. Albert. They now exchanged mail from time to time and often in her letters to James, she would speak of how he was. She wrote once of her distress when she received a letter from Albert's mother telling her that he had enlisted and gone off to find his damned horse.

"I don't understand that boy James. I love horses. Don't get me wrong. But I can't see risking my life to find one in the middle of a war. I'm so scared for him. He's just a child. Keep watch on him will you? Make sure another woman doesn't lose her best man. I can't imagine how his mother would feel if he was killed."

Months went by. And those months turned to years. And each day she came. She placed the flowers in the vase at the bottom of the headstone and folded her legs to sit comfortably. She'd read her letter and then sit there and just talk. About nothing. About everything. Sometimes she'd sit in silence for hours resting against the stone. When she got back home, she'd place the letter she'd written in a small box on her dresser. One day, she would perhaps have the box buried at his grave. When the box could hold no more. But for now she kept it with her. His letters to her were in another box. Those she kept safe in her bedside drawer. Close to her. Every once in a while, she would pull them out. Even after all this time she could smell him on them. She would read the letters and place them gently back in the box and then back in her drawer. Turn off her light and curl up in bed, tears streaming. That was how she fell asleep almost every night.

Four long years after it began, it stopped. Soldiers began coming home. But she didn't celebrate the victory. Casualties had been made on both sides. She did not see all the German soldiers as horrible people. To her, many were just boys or men who enlisted because they felt it was right. Or because they were forced. Wives still lost husband, mother's lost sons. Children lost fathers. To her it didn't matter who was who. Or who won. The victory was in those who came home. For her, there was no victory. There was no Jim. There would be no man taking her into his arms and hugging her until she snapped beneath his joy.

About four months after peace was declared, she heard a knocking on her door. Dusting her hands off on her apron, she left the kitchen. Who in God's name would be visiting? No one came to see her. That had stopped years ago. At first everyone in town came by to be nosy. They said it was for comfort. They'd bring her food, flowers. But she knew better. She had barely known these people. They were only here to gaze upon a broken woman. Now though, she was at peace from their daily visits. So why someone was coming now she had no idea.

Another knock. More forceful this time.

"I'm coming!" She ground out. Goodness. Have some patience people. Gripping the knob she yanked the door open angrily. "Yes. What can I do for-" Her words died. She felt faint. If he hadn't caught her, she would have hit the floor. Her heart pounded in her chest and she could hear her blood rushing in her ears. "I...I don't. I don't understand. You. This...It's not real." He pulled her against him. "You can't. This just. They said. Dead."

Her eyes fluttered closed as he brushed his thumb across her cheek, then pushed back a strand of stray hair behind her ear. She had to be dreaming. There was no way.

"Assumed dead." His voice had her going weak at the knees. Four years. Four long years she had gone without hearing that voice. It was all happening so fast. She needed to sit down. He eased his hold on her, taking only her hand as she led him to the living room. With an undignified plop, she fell onto the sofa. He sat next to her, stroking her hand gently, instead of trying to hold her. Somehow he knew she needed a moment to get her barrings.

"I don't understand James. How are you alive? They told me you were killed." After a few minutes of silence, she spoke. Voice surprisingly steady.

"I was shot. Yes. But I did not die." He told her of how he'd been shot in the shoulder. "The German's weren't taking any chances. They went around, kicking and tugging at the bodies on the ground, if they found a man still alive, they took him. I tried to remain still so they would think I was dead. But when a grown man kicks you in the ribs, unless you're a really good actor, you can't pretend. So they took me. I became an official prisoner of war. Most of the officers treated us harshly. But others were much kinder. I have learned to respect people I never would have before. It was the ones that took pity on us that made me feel less hatred for the Germans. I now know that many are just men, like anyone else, fighting for what they believe in. Not to be cruel or kill. But to protect their families, their homes." Georgie nodded. That had been her philosophy as well.

"I was held captive there for three and a half years. I know it's not long but Georgie, it felt like eternity. We all kept each other going though. And with the help of some of the German's who looked after us, willingly risking danger to themselves for doing so, we kept strong. Jamie is alive. He was in the prison with me. And a few others from my regiment. We were all half starved and looked like we'd been ran over by tanks by the time we were found and liberated. Not all of us made it but it was glorious walking out. That was short lived though. They put us back in the fighting almost immediately. I thought of writing to you. I knew you had to have been told I was dead. But I was so scared that I'd write, and you'd get your hopes up and then I'd actually get killed. I couldn't do it. I just couldn't. But then we got the news. It was over. And I was so excited I literally screamed with joy. Jamie laughed at me, but I didn't care. I've missed you. I know the men all helped each other to get through, and I won't deny that I probably would be dead if not for them, but if I have to be honest, if I didn't have you here to come back to, I probably would have given up and not let anyone help me. You saved me. You and God. That's where I place my thanks the most."

Georgie sat silent the whole story. Tears in her eyes throughout most of it. When he finished, she took a deep breath trying to keep from falling apart. And then she threw herself at him. Arms, flailing to get around his neck. The tears fell then. But neither cared. James cried too and gripped her tight, holding her as close as he could. For how long they clung to each other she didn't know. But when they did break apart he took her hands and entwined their fingers in his lap.

"Now tell me Georgie. What has happened to you since I've been gone?" She told him everything. About the funeral that would need to be sorted out. How does one go about having a tombstone removed? Do they just knock it down? To hell with it. They'd figure it out. She told him about visiting his grave everyday, about her letters to him and how she'd been writing to Albert and then Albert's mother when he enlisted. James was glad to hear that Albert and Joey both made it home safe. They both made up their minds that they would have to go visit Albert and his family. When she finished they were both smiling, tear tracks down their cheeks. Even though it had been hard, and would still be hard for a while, things were so much better already. He was home, safe and nothing could ruin the mood they were in.

"Oh. There's supposed to be a ceremony in a few days, I'll be rewarded some medals and such for my service, and I want you there."

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it for the world. But...just promise me. If there is ever another war, you won't join. I couldn't bare that." He squeezed her hands tighter in his.

"I would never dream of it. Although if they draft me-"

"Don't. I don't want to think about that. I just want you to promise you won't sign up. And then never talk about it anymore."

"I promise. And after the ceremony, let's start planning the wedding. I want to marry you as soon as possible Georgie Wilder." Her laughter was the most amazing sound to him. Her tiny arms wound around his neck again, and although both had wordlessly agreed to wait, something shifted. When his lips met hers, she knew. She knew that this was right. As did he. When they broke apart, James lifted her bridal style in his arms and carried her to the bedroom. They made love. Shamelessly. No one else had to know.

Less than a month later the two married. And less than six months after that, Georgie sprung the news upon him that she was expecting. He swept her into his arms and twirled her around, kissing her passionately when he put her back on the floor. They had a beautiful girl, with her father's eyes and nose, and her mother's brilliant red hair. They named her Faith. Because without faith, they knew, they never would have made it.

So. This was supposed to be a song fic based on Just A Dream by Carrie Underwood. But it just sort of ran away with me and well...maybe one day I can go back and fix it how I want it. I just wanted to hurry and finish and upload. I'm proud of it how it is, but I really wanted to center it more around the lyrics of the song. Course, really, it sounds a bit more like Letters From War, but from a fiancee's perspective rather than a mother's. Point is, I was using songs about people who loose someone to war for the basis. I was originally gonna make Nicholls die like he was supposed to. But I suppose, like in Letter's From War, I really wanted it to end happy.


End file.
